Just enough to wet the tongue
by olansamuelle
Summary: One-shot during the scene in episode 9 from Ilithyia's POV:


**Title: **Just enough to wet the tongue (Ilithyia / Spartacus)

**Rating: **M

**Notes: **originally written for the livejournal community bloodandsandfic's 2010 drabble table. Prompt: PWP.

**Summary: **Set during the scene in 1x09, "Whore". From Ilithyia's pov.

_**OOOOO**_

Lucretia had brought her the best wine.

"To please your tongue before you bind it with the mask," she had said.

It was her favorite, and Lucretia knew. And she had been generous with it, too. Her slight lightheadedness was proof of it, but Ilithyia welcomed the sensation with open arms, for it was what she needed to steer the mind towards the moment and clear it from any other thought. She wanted her senses to explode at the colossus' touch, not thoughts of shame and anguish slashing her conscience.

Even after she had the slaves to put the mask on, Ilithyia remained observing the glass with Bacchus' delicacy, reminiscing on the taste it had left on her throat and tongue, the only thing that would remain within her mouth as she let herself be taken by the Gaul.

And so it began.

The noise of the curtains opened by the slaves invited her ears to turn her head, and there he stood. Naked, golden. Glorious.

Ilithyia swallowed hard and walked graciously towards him, concealing her desires. They would be unleashed, but once she was in the Gaul's arms. The man awaited, standing, with the pose of a champion, his cock ready to please.

As the slaves closed the curtains, Ilithyia let herself be transported to the world she longed for at that moment, and crawled on the bed towards the man, his sculpted torso overflowing her sight.

She rose, following the muscles, trying to find Crixus' smooth skin beneath all that golden substance as she traveled with her hands to his neck, getting glimpses of the body of a champion yet not daring to look into his eyes once she saw the mask hiding the face, a glimpse of shame threatening to hit her if she ventured to look. What the eyes did not see, the mind could not betray.

Then an instant, and as if reading her thoughts, Crixus took her with strength, yet with a certain delicacy in his touch that she had never thought the Gaul bore. Ilithyia had imagined that Lucretia desired the gladiator for quite the contrary virtues.

Her legs parted and she let him do, shivering when she felt his hand below, holding and softly guiding his cock inside her. She moaned and welcomed him as he entered her.

His delicate touch caressed her mask, as if he was before a true love. Her breasts, her neck, turning the masks into instruments of the sweet torture of what is desired and forbidden.

Crixus was thinner at the touch than what the eye showed, and for an instant, Ilithyia mused that perhaps she had mistaken Lucretia's private needs and desires.

But soon the Gaul delivered a more familiar sensation, and the feeling of his cock rubbing her insides as it entered her, soon turned into a thrust, one to which Ilithyia almost cried in pleasure as the silent champion served.

Leaning on her back soon was not enough, and they knelt on the mattress, as she let him take her. They rolled back, and this time she sat on top of him, wanting more.

The Gaul indeed was worthy of his stolen title. She longed for his touch with aching necessity, and then, there was just one thing to be done, one last remaining hole she wanted his cock inside of, one she would never dare ask her husband. A moment was enough, and the Gaul took her, nailing her as no man ever would. She closed her eyes hard, letting her body be taken, clutching the sheets with her hands to stand the thrust, like she had seen Varro do to that slave, and what she had demanded to see done again, thinking she would only be able to witness such wonder, never feel it herself.

She could not contain her cry, and she did, drowned in pleasure, when, her senses lost, she felt everything stop.

"Oh, apologies, Licinia…"

Ilithyia recognized that voice.

And the name it had spoken.

And the next revelation turned the cock she had wanted inside her with such lust into a fucking knife.

"…we appear to have arrived before Ilithyia's finished with Spartacus."

_**Fin.**_


End file.
